What happens when people become painfully predictable? Like the finance idiot your best friend decides to give a chance to and turns out to be comparable to the gum you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. Or when you vow to wake up early to workout and end up sleeping in and still making it to the gym at 1:00PM because there was a Hallmark movie you just had to see? Oh, wait that last one isn't people, that's me.
Is being predictable bad or good? It doesn't seem to matter because you're going to do what you want anyway regardless of the red flags you see flying in your face. For example, if you know me longer than a week, you can predict that on Wednesday I will be grumpy before finishing two cups of coffee, every other day I'm approachable after I finish one cup. But I guarantee you, even with this valuable insight someone will approach me Wednesday morning at 9:00 with some outlandish question. It's probably not that bad, but with a lack of caffeine ... not pretty.
Situations are predictable as well: like my good friend who is an account executive and the Time Warner scam. My friend lets Time Warner into her room to fix the cable and leaves him to make dinner in the next room. What do you think happened? Why would this be in my predictable post? You guessed it later that evening she realizes she is sans her ipod touch and officially a victim of petty theft in New York. Pretty predictable.
But I like people and situations that are predictable. I love nothing more than a controlled environment, I'm also someone who HATES change and short notice. I dated a guy once who was very "let it be, what will be will be, let's just go with the flow" ... needless to say we didn't work out because my need to outline and file things in my little world couldn't fit his fleeting and indecisiveness in the relationship folder.
Or my most recent version of the predictable predicament, my boyfriend announces that he might have a location change in his job. OH NO ... there goes my perfectly filed folder, so I made him have a discussion on vague pretenses and a lot of ifs, what ifs, and what happens when. All to satisfy my need to make sure I don't get caught off guard. It's a small way to convince my nervous nellie brain that at least I have a plan A, B and C.
Before you go condoning me as a control freak, hear me out. I love surprises like chocolate, flowers, nice gestures, happy coincidences. However, I also know a little too much heart ache and survival tactics for my age. I can't plan everything, but for right now, I'm in a bounce back and luckily, the imbalance in my life is taking a break so I can get my footing just right. Speaking of footing, I'm starting to train and build a base for the marathon in the Spring. It's funny, when you no longer have college schedules to predict your next move, you rely on other milestones ... like marathon number three (AKA NJ MARATHON YOU ARE GOING DOWN PT. 2).
Write to you soon! Happy Holidays!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
And then there was the other shoe ...
I've confessed my secrets about being a nervous nellie and someone who is perpetually nervous or anxious. I even subtly mentioned about the checklist I run through when I leave my house or work every day. Keys? Check. Wallet? Check. Sanity ... eh? While, these nuances might be unique to double d, I've discovered a trend that many my age + can relate to...the idea of 'waiting on the other shoe to drop'.
Growing up has made me realize several things (too many to count) but most certainly I've come to the conclusion that in this transition period the elder call "the twenties" you live each moment as your last or in some situations become too scared to move because you are waiting for the other shoe. So many things about getting older is a perpetual waiting game, "will I get the job", "will I find my perfect apartment", "will I fall in love"? The essence of this waiting game is knowing there is something on the other side, and for you crazy dramatics it probably isn't half bad, but the point is when do you realize the shoe has fallen.
Not that I realize a shoe of mine has fallen, but I have come to find out that waiting is no way to live and we all do it. Trust me, I'm not going to end this post with "what's meant to be will be" because I hate that saying or "everything happens for a reason" -- someone come up with a better answer please. It's almost like, the shoe that drops is the one you were looking for anyway so you might as well put it on and keep on walking.
When you're older you have a better sense of being and the other shoe isn't about to drop. In fact the shoe has probably fallen, you've lost it, gave up, and found another pair of shoes that weren't suspended in mid-air.
But, I'm not at that age yet and I won't tell you my anxiety is any less realizing that this mentality will only last me another 7 years (or so). All I know is right now, I'm OK with not knowing and just living. I have two shoes on and if another one falls out the sky, I'm going to look around to see who it belongs to.
Growing up has made me realize several things (too many to count) but most certainly I've come to the conclusion that in this transition period the elder call "the twenties" you live each moment as your last or in some situations become too scared to move because you are waiting for the other shoe. So many things about getting older is a perpetual waiting game, "will I get the job", "will I find my perfect apartment", "will I fall in love"? The essence of this waiting game is knowing there is something on the other side, and for you crazy dramatics it probably isn't half bad, but the point is when do you realize the shoe has fallen.
Not that I realize a shoe of mine has fallen, but I have come to find out that waiting is no way to live and we all do it. Trust me, I'm not going to end this post with "what's meant to be will be" because I hate that saying or "everything happens for a reason" -- someone come up with a better answer please. It's almost like, the shoe that drops is the one you were looking for anyway so you might as well put it on and keep on walking.
When you're older you have a better sense of being and the other shoe isn't about to drop. In fact the shoe has probably fallen, you've lost it, gave up, and found another pair of shoes that weren't suspended in mid-air.
But, I'm not at that age yet and I won't tell you my anxiety is any less realizing that this mentality will only last me another 7 years (or so). All I know is right now, I'm OK with not knowing and just living. I have two shoes on and if another one falls out the sky, I'm going to look around to see who it belongs to.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Oh New York...
So the city. I almost have a full year and a half under my belt so I thought I would do a recap. Still employed? Check. Still living with three roommates? Check. Still have a hot boyfriend? CHECK! Still weigh the same or less as this time last year? Check. Still love New York??
Luckily, the city hasn't jaded me too much, no matter how hard it tries. Someone from Time Warner stole my friend's ipod while fixing her cable. Another friend was walking down Lenox and had her phone stolen right out of her hand. Someone was shot at the new target that opened on 116th in El Barrio. Oh and let's not forget New York's finest that you see on television are NOT the finest at responding. You could have a dozen people in your apartment acting like vermin taking over space, being nasty and don't pay rent and the cops won't come unless you say someone has a weapon. Is being trifling a weapon?
But, don't worry, I still love running, writing, having coffee and dreaming of my future apartment in Tribeca.
However, even running in the city is an adventure with the characters you see or the petty crime you become a witness to. Let's take my 5 mile run today. I was running down Riverside listening to my ipod when a woman with a pretty large butt (yes, her butt is relevant in this story) ran passed me at what seemed like sprint speed so I assumed she was doing an interval work out and her walking interval was coming soon... I was right, unfortunately for this woman she walked into a gang of tween boys that began chasing after her with a basketball, marveling at her large bottom... They didn't try to rob her or anything they were just being NY annoying boys. Odd, but it's New York so I try not to be surprised with things. Next in the turn of events, when I rounded the corner I saw the little hoodlums waiting there and began to run next to me and try to throw the ball at my feet so I would trip. Clearly compared to the woman before me, my butt wasn't the object of affection, but seeing if they could make me fall was! Moral of this story, New York kids have nothing better to do than hood rat stuff with their friends.
OK, so New York is not all troubled kids, poop, roaches, rats, thieves, inconsiderate people, but it's a part of its lovable personality! I do love the parties, personalities, and the unattainable expectations everyone has of themselves and those around them. It makes you stay on your toes and it makes you feel like every day is on the edge of something better.
Oh New York, how I love thee...
Luckily, the city hasn't jaded me too much, no matter how hard it tries. Someone from Time Warner stole my friend's ipod while fixing her cable. Another friend was walking down Lenox and had her phone stolen right out of her hand. Someone was shot at the new target that opened on 116th in El Barrio. Oh and let's not forget New York's finest that you see on television are NOT the finest at responding. You could have a dozen people in your apartment acting like vermin taking over space, being nasty and don't pay rent and the cops won't come unless you say someone has a weapon. Is being trifling a weapon?
But, don't worry, I still love running, writing, having coffee and dreaming of my future apartment in Tribeca.
However, even running in the city is an adventure with the characters you see or the petty crime you become a witness to. Let's take my 5 mile run today. I was running down Riverside listening to my ipod when a woman with a pretty large butt (yes, her butt is relevant in this story) ran passed me at what seemed like sprint speed so I assumed she was doing an interval work out and her walking interval was coming soon... I was right, unfortunately for this woman she walked into a gang of tween boys that began chasing after her with a basketball, marveling at her large bottom... They didn't try to rob her or anything they were just being NY annoying boys. Odd, but it's New York so I try not to be surprised with things. Next in the turn of events, when I rounded the corner I saw the little hoodlums waiting there and began to run next to me and try to throw the ball at my feet so I would trip. Clearly compared to the woman before me, my butt wasn't the object of affection, but seeing if they could make me fall was! Moral of this story, New York kids have nothing better to do than hood rat stuff with their friends.
OK, so New York is not all troubled kids, poop, roaches, rats, thieves, inconsiderate people, but it's a part of its lovable personality! I do love the parties, personalities, and the unattainable expectations everyone has of themselves and those around them. It makes you stay on your toes and it makes you feel like every day is on the edge of something better.
Oh New York, how I love thee...
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Who owns your ego?
How many of you follow the advice of women magazines and leave post-it notes on your mirrors and doors to remind you that you are beautiful, strong and to have a good day? I'm curious on what the impact on your life is. Do you repeat this mantra on the way to the subway?
Or do the sketchy construction workers whistling and hissing after you suffice as an ego boost? Speaking to the latter, I would have to say that in the moment it makes me quite uncomfortable and the attention is unwanted, however, if they don't say anything you know you look like death...
But, do you tell yourself "self, you look like death today, you should probably spare the rest of humanity and stay inside" Or do you wait for one of your girlfriends to say "oh no, you look tired" before you cry and commit yourself to hibernation? No matter how much male attention women receive it's the women in our life that validate our beauty.
It raises the standard because women know what other women can do to improve appearances. Take for example female facial hair (thank goodness I was spared *knock on wood), some people bleach, wax, thread, or shave (YIKES) and guess who pointed this out to them ... no not their boyfriends, their eye brow technician! She carefully finishes your eyebrows and looks at you and says "lip too?" At this point you're probably humiliated and commit to spending 10 more dollars for a lip treatment.
Women criticize each other, nothing new, right? But more than this, our distinct sense of beauty standards also makes men subconsciously dress, act and react to please women.
Exhibit A: Boy goes to work. He typically wears slacks a white button down shirt and a tie, nothing fancy just an iteration of his standard interview get-up. Boy meets great looking, well dressed girl... The next day you can find him dressed to kill looking as though he fell out of a GQ magazine.
Exhibit B: Boy hates beer, he typically gets something fruity and pink when he goes out. His friends make fun of him for it, but he doesn't really care. Boy takes out girl and girl orders a Bud Light. Boy begrudgingly asks for two and sips the beer while trying to maintain his gag reflex.
Exhibit C: Boy dates girl. Girl cheats on boy. Boy commits himself to a life of never trusting women and sleeps around to avoid emotional connections. He becomes 45 unmarried and his hair line starts to recede as he still hits on 20 somethings.
Ladies, I think we have an unproclaimed power on our hands... Since men don't critique other men, we fill this void and can pretty much take credit for confidence and egos of the straight men in the world. Just so my male readers don't have a heart attack, reader beware!!! Once you have an impact on a man, the ever popular "can't change a man" comes into play. So, use your power wisely, but don't miss out on the rare chance to change his ways!
Or do the sketchy construction workers whistling and hissing after you suffice as an ego boost? Speaking to the latter, I would have to say that in the moment it makes me quite uncomfortable and the attention is unwanted, however, if they don't say anything you know you look like death...
But, do you tell yourself "self, you look like death today, you should probably spare the rest of humanity and stay inside" Or do you wait for one of your girlfriends to say "oh no, you look tired" before you cry and commit yourself to hibernation? No matter how much male attention women receive it's the women in our life that validate our beauty.
It raises the standard because women know what other women can do to improve appearances. Take for example female facial hair (thank goodness I was spared *knock on wood), some people bleach, wax, thread, or shave (YIKES) and guess who pointed this out to them ... no not their boyfriends, their eye brow technician! She carefully finishes your eyebrows and looks at you and says "lip too?" At this point you're probably humiliated and commit to spending 10 more dollars for a lip treatment.
Women criticize each other, nothing new, right? But more than this, our distinct sense of beauty standards also makes men subconsciously dress, act and react to please women.
Exhibit A: Boy goes to work. He typically wears slacks a white button down shirt and a tie, nothing fancy just an iteration of his standard interview get-up. Boy meets great looking, well dressed girl... The next day you can find him dressed to kill looking as though he fell out of a GQ magazine.
Exhibit B: Boy hates beer, he typically gets something fruity and pink when he goes out. His friends make fun of him for it, but he doesn't really care. Boy takes out girl and girl orders a Bud Light. Boy begrudgingly asks for two and sips the beer while trying to maintain his gag reflex.
Exhibit C: Boy dates girl. Girl cheats on boy. Boy commits himself to a life of never trusting women and sleeps around to avoid emotional connections. He becomes 45 unmarried and his hair line starts to recede as he still hits on 20 somethings.
Ladies, I think we have an unproclaimed power on our hands... Since men don't critique other men, we fill this void and can pretty much take credit for confidence and egos of the straight men in the world. Just so my male readers don't have a heart attack, reader beware!!! Once you have an impact on a man, the ever popular "can't change a man" comes into play. So, use your power wisely, but don't miss out on the rare chance to change his ways!
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